Warm
by selanfene
Summary: Todd and Lovett totally do it, and it's awesome.


Warm

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd (the movie), or Sweeney or Mrs. Lovett or Toby.**

**Warning: PWP. Graphic. I just randomly felt like writing a PWP the other night, so here it is.**

**Warm**

There must've been a leak in the window. Certainly there was a draft—no doubt about that, none at all—and lucky too. The room was cold—good for keeping the stench of blood hidden. Sweeney Todd was cold. He drew in on himself, left sleeve clammily clinging to his arm. "Killing's a damned business," he murmured to the window. "Damned."

Cold... he unbuttoned his vest with his left hand, his face composed in a slight grimace. The feeling of his cool, blood-drenched sleeve caressing him made his skin crawl.

Blood should be warm. "It should," he assured himself. "Not damned... _cold_." Had his vest not already been spattered in blood, he would have cared that he dropped it in a large puddle of congealing blood. Absentmindedly, he ripped the buttons down the front of his shirt and shed it too in the gelling blood kissing his feet.

The grimy window tried to reflect his white skin, but red dripped to destruct the image.

"What in the name of—" Sweeney turned and felt his face twitch at the sight of Mrs. Lovett. Her eyes unabashedly traveled his bare torso. "Well, Mr. T, where's the lady?"

"Come here."

"Mister Todd—"

"Come _here_."

Mrs. Lovett stepped squeamishly across the room, trying to hop across on the clean patches of wood while clinging to her dignity as if it were a lifejacket. "Mister Todd, it's a bit cold in here, innit?" She began patting the window, feeling for the draft, but stopped short with a quiet gasp when a hot hand cupped the back of her neck.

"Yes," Sweeney said, "It's cold." He let his hand fall lightly down her spine, curling his fingers at the small of her back. When his hand grazed the bottom edge of her corset, he pulled back with a sharp breath.

"Mister Todd, are you feverish?" On her tip toes, Mrs. Lovett held the back of her hand to Sweeney's forehead. He shut his eyes. "Yes, you _are _a bit warm—maybe you shouldn't be up here in this drafty place, it can't be good for your..." Sweeney opened his eyes and met her gaze. "Oh," she whispered, pulling back her hand. "Mr. T, come on, let's go downstairs." She reached down to grab his wrist.

He twisted her arm up beneath her chin. There should have been silence in that moment, but their breathing together created quite an uneven racket.

"Mister Todd, _downstairs_," Mrs. Lovett breathed. "You've a fever. Come on."

Sweeney's breath accelerated slightly more, and he muttered, "I'm fine."

"So's any man, Mr. T, if you ask him." Mrs. Lovett didn't think Sweeney had even heard her, but didn't repeat herself. Instead she opened her mouth to say, "Mr. Todd, that's starting to hurt." Before the words could form on her tongue, though, she could feel Sweeney's face radiating heat, and her lips were burning.

No, his lips were burning.

On hers.

She sighed and let herself deflate in his grasp. One of the two began working their mouths a little and slipping tongue—Sweeney's scorching heat on her crisp chill—but neither was sure, nor cared, who it had been. Mrs. Lovett twisted her wrist out of Sweeney's hand and laced both of hers behind his neck. He made a quiet noise and awkwardly placed his hands rigidly at her hips.

There were three rapid knocks on the door, followed by Toby yelling, "Mum, Mr. Todd, excuse me, I need—"

"Fuck off," Sweeney growled, pulling back just enough to clear Mrs. Lovett's mouth for the second it took to spit the words. He pressed his forehead onto hers and she felt a light, cool sweat on him.

"But Mr. T, I need—"

Sweeney groaned loudly and kissed Mrs. Lovett's neck as he said, "You idiot... boy... we're... busy. Can't it... wait... a while?" Mrs. Lovett couldn't hold back a whimpering sigh.

"Oh—OH!" Toby comprehended what was happening behind the door, and Sweeney could hear him blush as he said, "Right, uh, I'll come back later."

Sweeney snickered slightly into the curve of Mrs. Lovett's neck. He bit lightly at the edge of her jugular and let out a warm breath, lightly running his tongue where he would run his razor. Mrs. Lovett raised her chin, the foolish woman, to give him free reign of her neck. He found his hands encircling it, pressing slightly just below her larynx. When her breathing became laboured, he let go and let his hands fall. They rested on her breasts before he could stop them—and she certainly seemed to like it, so he let them remain.

"Mister Todd," Mrs. Lovett whispered, "I ought to tell you—"

Sweeney cut her off, once more pressing his warm lips to her cool ones. His fingers took up the strings of her corset. He felt his brain completely shut down as he loosened them, and a surge of blood rushed from his brain down to where it was needed more. He kissed the dent at the base of her neck, then let the corset fall to the mess on the floor. The shoulders of her dress sagged and the front dipped down, exposing her chest to his rough hands. He pulled back a little, looking at her breasts, and felt the tell-tale tightening that told him the blood from his brain was being put to good use. Slowly massaging her skin from her shoulders to her nipples, Sweeney let out a ragged breath. He furrowed his brow and lowered his lips to the peak of her left breast. He drug his teeth down over her nipple and onto the underside of her breast, leaving red trails behind. Mrs. Lovett leaned her head to his and buried her mouth in his hair. "Mister Todd..." she whispered, her voice hoarse. He reached to her shoulders and pulled at the last of her dress so it fell in a heap at her feet, leaving her naked before him but for her knickers and boots. He pressed the side of his head to the arc of her bare stomach and moaned quietly. But something seemed to suddenly occur to him and he slowly stood, grazing his lips and nose up the center of Mrs. Lovett's body, between her breasts, up her neck, and to her mouth. Kissing her again, Sweeney took one of her hands in his and pressed in lightly to the front of his pants.

"Mister Todd, I've never done that before..."

In answer, he slid his tongue between her lips. His hands ran up and down her sides and back, fingers filling the valleys and cresting the hills, as her hands carefully unbuttoned his pants. Mrs. Lovett placed her hand tentatively around the shaft of Sweeney's cock. She traced her fingers down to the base and up again to the head. "Mister Todd, I really don't—"

"You're doing fine," he muttered into her mouth. "Just... rub."

Mrs. Lovett bit her lip and stroked, starting slowly and steadily. His breathing accelerated and came in quick bursts, his face contorting slightly, and his hands stopping nowhere. Sweeney's hands—suddenly they knew no limits. They raked her hair, caressed her breasts, squeezed her bottom, and even slid between her legs. As his hands found new ways to make her gasp, she quickened her hands and found new ways to make him moan. The closer he got to climax, the faster and rougher his hands explored. Just as his back began to arch and he was nearly there, Mrs. Lovett pulled back.

"I may not be experienced but I know how to tease," she said.

Sweeney's wild hands now took her hair and pushed. Her knees crashed to the floor, narrowly missing the congealed blood, and as he pressed her face forward she took the head between her lips. Her lips and tongue worked on him as she guaged his reactions by the arch of his back, the desparity in his hands, how hard he pushed her head in, and the patterns of his breathing. Still she was a little surprised when he let out a short guttural yelp and came in her mouth. The salty, unexpected semen made her gag and dripped out past her lips, over her chin, and onto her bare breasts. Sweeney came down from his orgasm and fell back on the wall, carefully composing his faintly flushed face. Mrs. Lovett choked down a gulp of his cum, then wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. He reached down to help her up, pulling her into his body. His juices smeared onto his chest as she breathed heavily and kissed him hard. Roughly, shaking slightly, Sweeney's hands hooked into the waistband of her knickers and slipped inside.

He put his ear in the hollow just below hers and let his hard breathing cascade down her neck and over her bare shoulder as he drew a finger between her lips. She moaned as his thumb pressed her clit, and he responded by rubbing it with his thumb as he slipped two fingers inside her. Mrs. Lovett cursed quietly and dug her fingernails into half-circles over Sweeney's shoulder blades. "Mister Todd!" she gasped, pressing her face into the firm musculature of his shoulder, biting just above his collar bone. Sweeney apparently knew what he was doing with his hands—it took very little time for Mrs. Lovett to utter a high-pitched moan, hugging Sweeney's face her to her bosom, and hook one leg around his waist, bearing down hard on his hand.

Sweeney pushed her knickers to her ankles, letting her step out of them herself, and slowly kissed the length of her neck, back down her cleavage, and down the center of her stomach, stopping at her hips. Firmly, he took her thin hips in his hands, digging his fingertips into the skin near her hipbones, and threw her to the table in the corner. Her hands grasped at holes in the wall and her breasts chafed against the dusty top. An angry red line appeared just above her hips where the edge of the table hit her hardest. She let her face fall forward as Sweeney's rough fingers pushed the small of her back down to tip her hips more towards him. Her booted feet spread and the muscles in her white legs flexed. Still creating bruises just inside her hipbones with his fingers, Sweeney stepped into place and thrust deep into her. She looked to the ceiling of the room, groaning half in pain and half in pleasure. The table wasn't very sturdy, and with every thrust of Sweeney's, it followed the movement, carrying Mrs. Lovett forward so her elbows hit the wall—by the time they were done, her elbows her bruised and scraped. She bit her lip—hard—and listened—harder—to Sweeney's breathing and moans, wishing—hardest—that she could see him. At one point she craned her neck to see him. His face was in a hard grimace, eyes firmly shut, and lip between his teeth, biting hard enough to almost draw blood. Mrs. Lovett hoped that was a good thing.

Sweeney's hips hit Mrs. Lovett's bottom hard with every deep thrust, and his breath once again became fast and ragged. He murmured something Mrs. Lovett couldn't hear. The euphoric fog of an orgasm was creeping into his head, warning him that he was soon to lose control. He drew a sharp breath and leaned into his thrusts. The table creaked as it bent under the weight. Sweeney thrust hard enough that Mrs. Lovett's nose was barely an inch from the wall. Somehow through the fog now creeping through her mind as well, Mrs. Lovett noticed that the walls desperately needed to be cleaned—grime and dried blood covered them like wallpaper.

Moans filled the air as Sweeney came, shooting his seed far into Mrs. Lovett. His face contorted into an even more pained expression than normal. Mrs. Lovett flipped herself without thinking so she could see his face as she made him cum. The sight was more than enough to get her off, and just as he was coming down, she was going up. She leaned back onto the table, biting her tongue to hold back screams, and hooked one booted leg over Sweeney's shoulder as he gave her a few more courtesy thrusts. When her orgasm subsided, Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett stayed in position, just standing there with Sweeney's cockstill inside Mrs. Lovett.

Mrs. Lovett was the first to speak. "Well I s'pose that means we're going to have to buy new clothes, dunnit."

Her matter-of-fact tone jolted Sweeney to his senses again and they disentangled themselves from each other. Sweeney pulled his blood-stained pants back on and found a button-down jacket, which he slipped on before letting himself out the door and down the stairs to the pie shop. Mrs. Lovett stayed long enough to clean up the blood on the floor and window and find a large robe she could wrap herself in until she got down to her shop again.

It wasn't until her work was done and she was halfway down the stairs that she stopped and realised what had just happened. And that there had clearly been no love on Sweeney's side of it. And that she was probably going to have his children now.

**A/N: First/only Sweeney Todd fic I've ever written. PWP FTW! (Also the only PWP I've ever written.) Also, it's largely unbeta'd, so I apologise for any errors.**


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